


Out at Sea

by tosca1390



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-10
Updated: 2011-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight years of work and a <i>family</i>, gone in two hours’ time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out at Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Written for West Wing Secret Santa at LiveJournal.

*

Her cell phone had been ringing for quite some time before CJ noticed it.

Startled, she pushed her paper plate full of lo mein onto the floor next to her and scrambled for her cell phone. “Hello?”

“Been calling for an hour now.”

She settled her weight fully against the wall. “Sorry.”

Over the line, Danny laughed. “It’s okay. Weird day for you.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” she said, her gaze settled on the window. “Did you watch?”

“I did. Santos didn’t wear an overcoat. I think he’s crazy.”

She laughed. “Apparently long underwear was involved.”

From her seat on the hardwood floor of her almost-old living room, she could see out across the dark Washington skyline. Even the lights from the buildings looked cold in a night icy enough to crack glass. For hours now, her focus had been kept on her boxed-up apartment, the weird empty echo in every room. Eight years of work and a _family_ , gone in two hours’ time; yeah, she felt a little out at sea.

“Do you miss it yet?”

“No, not really,” she said. On the streets below her apartment, party-goers laughed and shouted, reminding her of inaugurations past. Tonight, in her worn jeans and Berkley sweatshirt, wasn’t lonelier or sad; just different. “I feel like I left my brain in my office though.”

“You’ll get it back. I’ll buy you another one out here,” he said; she could hear the smile in his voice, and it warmed her right through. “As long as you buy me another set of skin.”

“You’re red as a lobster, aren’t you?” she teased.

“Sure am. Thought it would make you smile when you got off the plane.”

She sighed, shutting her eyes and imagining LAX, the glass, the hard blue sky, the pools of sunlight. “How does my house look?”

“A little bereft, but I’m making do. Lots of Notre Dame memorabilia on the walls, and Gail’s made herself at home.”

“Danny!”

“What? You didn’t wait Gail to come too?”

She rolled her eyes, picking at her lo mein with her plastic fork. “You said you wouldn’t change anything until I got there.”

“And I didn’t. I promise,” he said, voice low, just as she remembered it from a week ago.

Settling back against the wall, she crossed her ankles. “Okay then.”

“Heard about the pardon.”

A nostalgic sadness curled through her, settling in her middle. “You mean Granny Pot?” she asked lightly.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

Outside her window, snow had begun to fall, just a light flurry. She wasn’t sure she’d miss it, the cold and the snow. “No.”

“And why not?”

She shrugged to herself, wedging her cell phone between her shoulder and ear. “I don’t know if he wants to hear from me right now.”

Danny snorted. “You’re crazy.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled around a mouthful of noodles.

“Just give him a call, CJ. You’re leaving tomorrow, and you’ll regret it later.”

“You know you can only get away with being so commanding because you’re across the country, right?” she asked dryly.

He chuckled. “Hey, I’ll take it however I get it. Have a good flight.”

She hung up with a smile, her fingers playing along the edges of her phone. Her television was already packed; there was nothing ahead of her but a long sleep and a blissful plane ride into the new part of her life.

Hesitating only a moment, she opened her phone and pressed five on her speed dial (it had always been five, after Dad, the switchboard, Leo, and Carol; Josh was six, Sam had been seven, but now that number belonged to Danny).

Toby answered on the second ring. “How are the perpetual sunshine and the sand?”

Even sunshine sounded grumpy when Toby referenced it. “Not sure. I’ll tell you tomorrow morning. Probably fabulous.”

“I still have sand in my shoes from Orange Country.”

“You’re full of shit.” She paused, thinking of the new lines sunk into his face, the gray within his beard. “So, looks like you’re breathing the free air.”

“Yeah. I didn’t—“ he paused, exhaling slowly. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

She took another bite of lo mein. “None of us were.”

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“You’re glad though. Right?” she asked, when he didn’t continue.

Even his breathing seemed to still as she waited for anything over the line. It was unlike him to be so docile, so quiet, and it gnawed at her. All of them were so different now, after a hard eight years, and the changes which had seemed so imperceptible while in the halls of the west wing were now screamingly obvious; her moving in with Danny and jumping head first into her new life was a sure sign of that.

“I don’t know what to think about it,” he said finally, speaking precisely, as he always did. “I’m happy, of course. For Molly and for Huck and for me. But I don’t know what it means.”

She set her fork aside, curling her free fingers against the cool hardwood floor. “Me either. But I’d throw yourself a party.”

He cleared his throat. “Did he say anything to you?”

“No,” she said firmly. “But I hoped he would sign it.”

“I thought you were hoping for a frying pan.”

“Be careful when you open your mail, Tobus,” she retorted. “No reason why you can’t have both.”

“Thanks for that,” he murmured.

She sipped her wine, watching the snow. “Going to call the President?”

He sighed through the phone. “I’ll give it a year. Maybe. I don’t think this means all’s forgotten.”

“Definitely not. I would wear armor. Bring a shield. Your self-righteousness will only defend you so well,” she said.

“As I have discovered.”

She laughed, and he did too for a moment; it all made her think of roads not taken, of that day back at her home in California, where Toby had watched her fall into a pool and offered her the job of her life. Now Danny waited with their fish at that same house, with that same pool, and Toby was going to remain a free man.

“Toby?” she asked softly.

“Yeah?” he returned, just as quietly.

“You should come to visit. Get some sunshine. Take the kids to Disneyland. Find some Cubans to buy cigars from,” she said.

He snorted. “That’s Florida, with the Cubans.”

“Immigration is widespread these days. Everyone is everywhere,” she said. And wasn’t that the truth. “Danny can help you write a book.”

“I don’t need Danny’s help to write a book. I’m a writer.”

“Whatever you say, Judas.”

Toby grunted. “A little soon for that, CJ.”

She grinned. “Seriously, visit.”

“I will,” he said simply, and the silence between them felt more like a promise than anything else. “I should go. The twins are coming over soon.”

Sighing, she tilted her head back, looking at the ceiling. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry we won’t be able to dig a tunnel and get you out of prison.”

“Are you trying to be funny?” he asked flatly.

“Bye,” she said with a laugh, hanging up and letting out a great breath.

Outside, the snow kept falling. Surrounded by boxes and eight years of memories, she drank the rest of her wine and ate the rest of her Chinese, and thought of Danny and the cool blue waters of California with nothing but anticipation.

*


End file.
